Ghost Town Sheriff

 [Not exactly poems, 24-5, 24-6, 24-7, and 24-8 are a dream sequence that got out of hand]

24-5      Ghost-town Sheriff                     

“Are you the Sheriff, ma’am?”

“As much as anyone, I guess.

Have you got a problem?”

“And is that your police dog?”

“That’s him, Trooper.  Can’t

do all the tricks a shepherd

can but he can track and fight.

Listens to me most of the time, too

Which is a big plus; so what’s

your problem?”

“Can’t find my wife.”

“Where was she supposed to be?”

“At home, of course, but I got

home just now and she wasn’t

there.  Her car was gone as well.”

“Could she have gone to the store?”

“What store?  I do all the shopping.”

“That’s creepy.”

“She does other things,

“Don’t like to shop.”

“This wife of yours, is she a woman?

“Of course.  I have to find her.”  

“Well you could hire someone

private.  Might have to go

to Phoenix for that.  I’d try

Prescott first.”

“Why couldn’t you

do that?”

“Well, my jurisdiction is

this town and its environs, meaning

all the small farms and houses round

about.  Town council would fire me

right quick if I took to traipsing to 

Hell and gone after your wife.”

He gave her a hard look.  Trooper

growled and the man strode

angrily away.  

“Anything I can actually

help you with?” She called after him, 

but he didn’t answer.  “Guess not.” They

watched him walk down the street 

to a Ford Ranger.  “We didn’t get

his name or his wife’s either.  We’re

already doing a bad job and it’s not

quite noon.”

Trooper groaned and lay back down.